Career Advice
by Elessar1201
Summary: Harry and Ginny are at the top of their games, but something's missing. What would they sacrifice to make their dreams come true? Written before HBP
1. Chapter 1

The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I don't get anything out of it but the pleasure of spending some time there.

Harry and Ginny are at the top of their games, but something's missing. What would they sacrifice to make their dreams come true? Written for the Hold Fast to Dreams Challenge.

**Chapter 1 Ginny Gets an Offer**

Ginny Weasley breathed deeply as the wind blew into her face. It was still a cool wind, because the summer hadn't really taken hold yet, but she didn't mind. It cleared her mind, as if it had penetrated her skin and blown away the tangled webs of unwelcome and oppressive thoughts. She nearly laughed with the sheer joy of it. Someone tossed a Quaffle in the air and she put on a burst of speed to dive after it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a teammate make the same dive from the opposite direction. Her old competitive instincts, so finely honed from living over twenty years with her brothers, kicked in and she bent low over her Firebolt. Of course, the other bloke was riding a Firebolt, too, so it was a very close call. But at the last second, her hand made contact with the ball, and the Gripping Charm allowed her to pull it right out from under his hand. She grinned and shot up into the sky, far above her teammates.

"Hey, Zabini!" she called. He looked up at her, scowling. She tossed the Quaffle down to him, then took off in a circle around the stadium again. Truth was, she loved these warm up sessions, but not because she felt like she was getting ready for the day when she'd be called off the Cannons' second string to play in the big leagues. She knew that was what all her teammates were going after. She just liked to fly, to play for fun and friendly competition with players who were nearly as good as she was. She got more of a thrill from second-string practices than she did from sitting on the bench watching the first string Cannons play league matches. Face to the wind again, she took off in an orange blur high above the bleachers.

On the ground below, two people in orange robes watched her progress, their eyes shaded against the afternoon sun. The taller of the two, Aidan Lynch, the Cannons' first-string coach, turned to his companion.

"I see what you mean, B.J.," he said. "She's great."

The second string coach nodded. "She is, and she's got good instincts. She's always the best player at exhibition games. I think she could really be something."

They watched in silence as Ginny made a steep dive and snatched the Quaffle right out from another player's nose. She looped him, then tossed the ball over her shoulder to him and took off again. The second string coach, B.J. Ollerton, sighed, earning her a curious look from the other coach.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, returning his gaze to the players.

"I don't know," B.J. said. "I think she'd do a great job on first string. She's put in her time here, that's for sure. But I get a sense of something missing..." She trailed off in frustration. "I'm not sure I can explain it, Aidan. It's like she's only playing Quidditch while she waits for something better to come along."

Aidan laughed. "Better than professional Quidditch? To a Weasley?"

B.J. smiled wryly. "I know," she agreed, shaking her head. "I'm probably just imagining it. Forget I said anything. But, while you're here, you might keep an eye on Zabini, too. He's no Weasley, but he's quite good. As good as anyone Appleby or Tutshill is playing these days."

The coaches watched the players run their drills for a while longer. Aidan's eyes followed Ginny and Zabini, as well as a few other promising players, until B.J. tapped her whistle with her wand and raised it to her lips. The sound echoed through the stadium, calling all the players to the locker rooms.

Ginny landed on the pitch, feeling better than she had before practice started. She was sweaty under her orange robes, a good sweat born from honest hard work. Her red hair clung to the sides of her face, and she wiped it absently aside as she strode into the women's locker room. She flicked her wand, opened her locker, and set her Firebolt gently inside. Her nice-but-not-fancy robes hung inside the locker for her to change into for the big dinner tonight. Mum was having everyone over for the twins' birthday. Ginny smiled; she couldn't wait. Bill and Fleur's twins were like her own children these days, and their fourth birthday was a very big occasion for the Weasley family.

She began to pull off her orange robes, ignoring the restless pull of emotion in her belly. She felt that a lot recently, but right now she didn't have time to analyze it. Or even to go flying again, which was how she usually dealt with this persistent dissatisfaction. She had made Mum promise to wait until she got home to decorate; she knew exactly what she had in mind for the party theme.

"Weasley!" Her robe was halfway over her head when she heard Coach's voice call from the office.

She nearly groaned, but managed to suppress it. "Coming, Coach!" she shouted from under her robes. She yanked them off and threw them in her locker, then jogged in her shorts and jersey to the office.

"Yes?" she said, trying not to let her impatience show.

Coach Ollerton looked at her for a beat. "Shut the door and sit down, Weasley."

Curious, Ginny closed the door behind her. She sat in the uncomfortable naugahyde chair on the other side of Coach's battered desk.

B.J. sat back and studied Ginny for a moment. It was so hard to read this girl, she thought in frustration. She honestly had no idea what the answer to this offer would be.

"Coach Lynch was here today," she began succinctly. "He needs a rotating Chaser on the first string, since Bell's injuries limit her pitch time."

"Yeah?" Ginny said, wondering if Coach was really going where she seemed to be with this.

"Yeah," said Coach. "Lots of field time for a good all-rounder. And you're the best all-round Chaser we have."

Ginny blinked. "Me?" she said incredulously. "He wants me?"

Coach nodded and gave Ginny a rare smile. "Yes, he wants you. For the big leagues."

Ginny blew out a breath and slumped back in her chair.

Aidan Lynch wanted her.

To be a Chaser.

For the Chudley Cannons.

A part of her took a great deal of satisfaction in knowing she was the best, that she was good enough to rise to the top. In a family of so many over-achievers, superiority was hard to come by. And she _had_ been working toward this for a long time.

But another part of her wondered why she wasn't leaping up and down and whooping with joy. She was pleased, but not particularly thrilled. In fact, she wasn't sure what to do. She knew the question should be a no-brainer, it was what she had been working toward all these years, but she couldn't bring herself to say yes just yet.

She fidgeted with the end of her plait, bit her lip, then glanced up at Coach, who was watching her steadily. Hesitantly she said, "Can I have a few days to think about it? When does he need to know?"

To her relief, Coach gave a small nod, as though this was exactly what she had been expecting Ginny to say. "Yeah, that'll be fine. He doesn't need to know until after the Victory Day holiday. In fact, I told him I had to be allowed to keep all my players for the exhibition games that weekend. But he'll need to know after that."

Ginny nodded and stood up. "Thanks, Coach," she said, and walked quickly back to hit the showers.

She Apparated back home, only a few minutes later than she had planned. "Hi, Mum!" she said kissing her mother on the cheek distractedly.

"Hello, dear," her mother said fondly. She was taking a huge cake out of the oven, levitating it in front of her until it came to rest on the cooling rack in the center of the table.

"Did you get Bill to take the girls out for a bit?" Ginny asked, getting to work immediately. Thoughts of flying in the big leagues were shoved to the back of her mind to be dealt with later. She waved her wand and the decorations she had Vanished appeared from the air. Thank God for magic, she thought with a chuckle. Those two little girls could find anything, or ruin the house and everything in it trying. In her mind she called them Freda and Georgette, so much did they remind her of their uncles.

"Yes," Molly said, beginning to mix the frosting in a huge bowl on the table. "He's taking them to Diagon Alley to pick out their birthday presents, so we should have some time. He promised he could keep them out until six."

Ginny and Molly worked in companionable silence for a while. Molly frosted the cake with sugary white frosting, while Ginny put up streamers and added a layer of magical sparkle to everything. Opening her bag, she withdrew a dozen Golden Snitches she had stolen from the locker room and set them free to fly around the room. Then she pointed her wand at the corners of the kitchen and parlor, muttered a spell, and vines bearing pink roses began to climb from floor to ceiling.

Finally, Ginny turned to the cake. Half of it she turned orange, writing _Happy Birthday Victoria_ in white, in the style used by the Chudley Cannons. The other half she turned pink, decorated with white roses, and wrote _Happy Birthday Claire_ in the fanciest, most elegant writing she could come up with.

At quarter of six, the two women looked around. Molly's roast in the oven made the kitchen smell warm and homely, and Ginny felt that wave of...something...wash over her again. It made her think of Coach's offer to her today. Victoria would go into fits of joy if she accepted the position on the team. She sighed and pushed the thoughts and feelings away.

"It really clashes terribly, doesn't it?" she said, determinedly grinning at her mother. "All this pink and orange?"

Molly shook her head ruefully. "Yes, but it's what they want. It's their birthday."

Ginny sighed and let herself lean against the counter for a moment of rest before the family arrived home. "I don't remember you ever having to go through all this for Fred and George," she said thoughtfully.

Molly shook her head. "We didn't. Fred and George have always been so much alike, at least in things like this. But those girls..."

Ginny and Molly laughed together. Bill always said that if he hadn't actually seen both of them come out of Fleur, he wouldn't have believed his two girls were related to each other. Then they both sighed, and as if by unspoken agreement, moved into each other's arms.

"I wish she were here," Molly whispered into Ginny's shoulder. "I hate that she's missing this."

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. Birthdays were always so hard. "I know, Mum. I do, too. But we've done all right by them, don't you think? I'm sure she's proud of them."

"Of course she is," said Molly, pulling back and dabbing her eyes with her apron. "And your father is, too."

"Yeah," Ginny said quietly, her throat growing thick at the mention of her dad. As far as she was concerned, her father was made to be a grandfather to girls, and it was a bitter pill to swallow that he had died when they were still so young.

"Well, let's save the tears for Victory Day, shall we?" Molly said briskly, blowing her nose on a napkin. "Let's try to be happy tonight, Ginny, for our girls."

Ginny nodded, and took a deep breath trying to quiet her grief. Four years had gone by--well, four years on Victory Day, but that was only next week-- and she still missed her father so badly the ache never went away. She could only imagine how her mother got by from day to day. Or Bill, having lost both Arthur and Fleur on the same day. She supposed they did what Weasleys always did. They were family, and family took care of each other. For some reason, that thought nearly pushed her over into the sobs that she had been trying so hard to hold back. She pressed a fist against her belly, trying to hold in the feelings, and stood like that for a moment, still and tense.

A crack from the parlor distracted her, and she looked up. Molly went rushing through the kitchen into the other room, and Ginny heard the squeals of her nieces as they beheld the birthday decorations.

The sound of their voices made her feel better, and she followed her mother to where the twins and their father stood, surrounded by packages. Bill looked pale and bemused, and Ginny had to laugh. Men never understood why shopping was such a serious undertaking for women. Even if those women were only four years old.

Victoria was dressed in a perfect replica of a Cannons' uniform, from top to toe. With her red hair and freckles, she looked like a miniature version of Ginny. Claire, who was fair and blonde like her mother, wore a pink satin robe and a tiara on top of her sleek golden hair. Ginny smiled. Her little Seeker and her little Princess.

"Auntie Ginny!" shrieked the girls, and Ginny only just had time to hit the floor on one knee before they threw themselves into her arms. Ginny drew them close to her, and for a moment the restlessness receded, and she was content.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 Harry Gets an Offer**

Harry slid his fingers under his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, but kept his wand out as he escorted the three prisoners into the front gates of the Azkaban Fortress. The absence of Death Eaters had left a void in wizarding society that apparently every two-bit con artist was eager to fill. Few of them were very good at it without the central organization the Death Eaters had provided, and Harry and his Auror unit had spent the two years since graduation tracking down would-be replacements for places in the system that had once been under Voldemort's control. The three in front of him, two men and a woman, were the last in a syndicate that had been more difficult than most to root out, and Harry was desperately glad to have the job over with.

He poked at the closest wizard with his wand, trying to get him to walk faster. It had been a long night, and he really just wanted to go home. The man looked over his shoulder at him and scowled, and Harry saw that there was still blood on the side of his face and the front of his robes. Not his blood, either; it was from one of the two Aurors who had been injured in the raid.

"Get moving, Griffiths," Harry snapped. He was due a couple days off, since he hadn't had one in over a month, and he already had plans to spend most of the time sleeping. All he had left to do was to get this lot securely into their cells, then he could go home.

At that moment the wizard in the front of the little procession spun around. He pulled a wand out of an inner pocket and pointed it at Harry with a yell of _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry ducked the shot of green light without even really thinking about it. He rolled on the ground and shot a Stunning spell at the one who had cast it. As he slumped to the ground, the witch screamed, grabbed up her fallen comrade's wand, and shot another Killing Curse at Harry. Harry was faster, and cast a Mirroring Charm that reflected her green flash back at her. The spell from her own wand hit her squarely in the chest. Damn, he thought, he had really thought they would get through tonight without anyone being killed.

The security guards were running toward them, Stunning spells flying in flashes of red light. Harry started to rise, but the third wizard, the one covered in Dawlish's blood, jumped on him and got in a solid punch to his jaw before Harry got his wand into position and Stunned him. The security guards rushed up behind him and levitated the man's limp body off of Harry, then bound him with thick prickly ropes from their wands.

Harry stood, a bit dazed from the blow to his face. It was his own stupid fault. He didn't know how the first wizard had gotten a wand or where he had hidden it. That was careless. He would have to put it in his report, and his unit could be damn sure they'd be reamed for it at debriefing. He touched his hand to the corner of his mouth and it came away with blood on it. Disgusted at the whole thing, he spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor of the prison.

"You all right there, Mr. Potter?" one of the guards called to him.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Get me the forms, Elston, so I can get the hell out of here."

The guard lifted his wand and summoned three clipboards. Harry grabbed them out of the air and filled them out as quickly as he could, scrawling his name across the bottom.

"I'll need a fatality report, too, Elston," Harry said. He really didn't want to stay and fill out all this paperwork, but it was better than coming back later to do it.

The fourth clipboard floated over to him, and he wrote as succinct an account of what had happened as he could. Suspect tried to kill Potter. Potter reflected her curse back at her. That about covered it. If Kingsley wanted more details, he could wait until Monday. He turned on the heel of his dragon-leather boot, intending to leave the Fortress.

"Oy, Potter!" Elston shouted. "Owl just came!"

Harry stifled a groan and turned back. Taking the owl from the guard, he removed the note from its leg and unrolled it.

_Report to my office before you leave for the day. Shacklebolt._

Damn. One more minute and he would have honestly been able to say he had missed the owl. He looked down at the criminals who had delayed his departure. Gits. Now it would be another hour before he got home. It was already sunrise as it was. With another farewell to the guards, he Apparated back to the Ministry of Magic.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head of Auror Operations, looked down at the file in front of him. Potter's record was impressive, especially for someone so young. He knew there would be talk, knew that a lot of people would say that Potter was too young, or that he was all reputation and no substance, but they could ride that out. Fact was, Potter had a record more impressive than Aurors twice his age.

No, Kingsley was confident in his decision. He had gone over and over it, and it was the right thing to do. So he couldn't help but wonder where this niggling doubt came from, why he had a feeling that it wasn't going to work out the way he hoped it would. He ran a hand over his smooth bald head. It was something about Potter, he realized. It wasn't about performance. It was about commitment. Not that Potter ever let them down, ever gave anything less than a hundred percent. It was just-- he was getting the feeling that Potter's heart wasn't really in this any more.

The door opened in front of him and Potter walked in. Kingsley could see that he was tired; there were shadows under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped. It was no wonder, the bloke hadn't slept in three days. The look he gave Kingsley as he shut the door behind him was none too friendly, either.

"What happened to your face, Potter?" Kingsley said by way of greeting.

"One of the bastards had a wand," Harry said, shrugging and lifting the back of his hand to the trickle of blood. "Avoidable snafu. My unit's going to hear about it, believe me."

"Is it wrapped up?"

"Yeah," Harry said, dropping wearily down in the chair in front of Kingsley's desk. "Had to kill one of 'em."

That news neither surprised nor worried Kingsley. The fact was, since Potter had invented the Mirror Charm a little over four years ago, people were seldom killed any more who didn't do it to themselves. If one of the criminals had died, it was because he or she had tried to kill Potter, and ended up as a victim of their own curse.

"I know you're due a few days off," Kingsley began, "but there's something I want you to think about over the weekend."

Harry looked up sharply. This didn't sound like the usual list of next week's operations he had been expecting.

Kingsley folded his long dark hands in front of him. "This is to stay within these walls, Potter, until the appropriate time." Harry nodded. "Williamson is retiring at the end of the month, and Minister Bones has asked me if I will consider replacing him as Head of Department."

Harry grinned. That was the best news he had heard all day. Never mind that it was barely dawn. He jumped up and grabbed Kingsley's hand to shake it. "That's brilliant, sir!" he said with true enthusiasm. Kingsley smiled and Harry flopped back into the chair. "Just within these walls, mate, it's about time. You'll be great."

Kingsley inclined his head in a dignified gesture. "Thank you, Potter," he said. "I do believe I have something to offer in that position. But, as you can see, it leaves my position open. Whoever I choose to succeed me must be ready to step in when Williamson steps down."

Harry nodded. He had an idea what was coming, and he couldn't help grinning a bit to himself. He had been looking forward to this day for some time now. He crossed his fingers and watched as Kingsley took one last look down at the files in front of him.

"I want you to consider taking the position of Head of Auror Operations," Kingsley said.

Harry's jaw dropped open, and a few drops of blood dripped onto his robe. He sat up straight. That was not what he had been expecting. "What?" he said incredulously, slapping his hand on the arm of the chair. "You can't be serious!"

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "I am serious, Potter," he said. "Your record of successful missions, initiative, and leadership make it plain to me that you are the one in this department best qualified for the job."

"But I thought--" Harry realized he was sputtering and he shut his mouth for a moment. The action aggravated the bruise that was darkening on his jaw. "I mean, Tonks has seniority over me. I assumed she would move into your position and I would move into hers."

Kingsley nodded. That was the more common expectation, he knew. "I feel that Tonks is of best use to the department in the position she now holds. Do you have a problem with her work in Auror Training?"

Harry shook his head impatiently. "No, of course not," he said. "She's great. I just thought that was how it would work."

Kingsley studied him for a long moment. "That is how it usually works," he conceded. "But, your record is more significant than hers, and I want you in a position that doesn't keep you off the streets entirely."

Kingsley continued to watch Potter as he struggled to assimilate this new information. After a few minutes the boy sat up in his chair and regarded him intensely.

"If I'm going to consider taking this job," he said, "there are some things I need to know."

Kingsley nodded. That was no more than he had expected.

"Personal things," Harry said, looking him in the eyes.

Kingsley looked up. That was something he hadn't expected.

"All right," Potter said, sitting back again and running a hand through his hair. "Er...are you married?"

"Married?" Kingsley couldn't keep his surprise from showing. "Well, no. I've never been married."

"Why not?"

Kingsley frowned. He wasn't at all sure he liked the direction this conversation was going. "I don't know," he said. "I just never got around to it, I suppose."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

Kingsley shook his head. "No, not at the moment." Was this about sex? Potter was a young man; those things were important to young men. But if Potter was going to turn down this promotion because of sex, Kingsley would curse him himself.

Kingsley crossed his arms in front of his muscular chest. "Do you have a girlfriend, Potter?"

Potter ran his hand through his hair again. "No, I don't," he answered with a frown. "What's your home like?"

Kingsley called to mind his flat as best he could. There wasn't much to remember. "I live in a small flat above a shop in Diagon Alley," he said slowly.

"But what's it like?" Potter asked insistently. "Do you look forward to going there, or is it just the place where you sleep and shower?"

Kingsley shrugged, feeling like he was getting out of his depth. "It's just a flat, Potter. I expect it's similar to the one you live in. Don't you just live on the next block?"

"Yeah," Potter said, a strange smile on his face. "Yeah, I just live on the next block."

"Look, Potter," Kingsley said, hoping he could steer them out of these uncomfortable waters. "Take the weekend off, and don't come back until Monday. Give it some thought, all right?"

"All right, then," Harry said, standing. "I'll think about it. See you Monday."

Harry Apparated home, to the middle of his own flat above a shop in Diagon Alley. He barely glanced around, but there wasn't much to glance at, anyway. A few worn posters of the Chudley Cannons, a framed Daily Prophet photo of Ginny Weasley making a spectacular catch at an exhibition match last year, a picture of the little twins giggling up at him and waving, a framed copy of the Daily Prophet headline announcing DAY OF VICTORY! POTTER DEFEATS DARK LORD!!!

The blood had dried on his face, and the bruise on his jaw was getting more tender by the minute. His muscles were starting to feel sore, and he knew that if he didn't take his shower before he fell asleep, he'd be sorry. He dropped his clothes on the floor and left them where they fell. He stood in the shower, leaning against the wall and letting the scalding water flow over him. For a moment he let himself think about the conversation with Kingsley. Damn. He had been so sure Kingsley would slide him up into Tonks' position. He had been an idiot, letting himself dream about that. He shook his head in mockery of himself, letting the water run into his eyes. He had even been coming up with lesson plans, ways to modify and build on Tonks' basic program. Her program was effective, but there were a few things he--

He turned off the water, angry with himself. He wasn't being offered the training job, so he could just stop thinking about those things right now. He was being offered a better job, a more responsible one, one that would put him within reach of Department Head within a decade. Any other Auror would jump at the chance. It was a brilliant opportunity.

He had no business judging Kingsley, he thought. He didn't have anything in his life but work, either. Fifty more years of coming home to a flat like this, with nobody waiting for him, with only pictures of other people's children to greet him. A lifetime of living for work and climbing the ladder. If that was all there was going to be for him, he might as well climb as high as possible.

On that depressing thought he fell naked onto his bed. He barely remembered to set the alarm clock to wake him up on time to get to the Burrow for dinner. It was the twins' birthday and he had promised to be there. He couldn't be late.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 The Birthday Party**

Ginny had barely had time to show the girls the decorated kitchen when people began to Apparate into the parlor. The sounds of cracks, one following the other like gunshots, and the hearty greetings from the Weasley men, filled the air and sent the girls into peals of glee as they ran from uncle to uncle, grabbing away their wrapped gifts and asking, "What did you get me? Can I open it?"

_And this is before they even get any sugar into their systems!_ Ginny thought fondly, shaking her head. She hoped Bill would let them stay up late; it was a very special day, after all. She left her nieces to be fawned over by her brothers and their wives or girlfriends and went to help her mother set the table.

"How many tonight, Mum?" she asked, pulling cutlery out of the drawer.

Molly turned and began to count. "Bill and the girls, Charlie and Luna, Percy and Penelope and the baby, Ron and Hermione, and the twins with Angelina and Alicia...how many is that?"

"That's thirteen, not counting the baby," Ginny answered. "Isn't Harry coming?"

"He said he'd try, but you know how erratic his schedule is," Molly said shaking her head. Ginny nodded, but didn't speak. She knew she didn't have to. She worried about Harry, but her mum would articulate her thoughts on this matter quite accurately.

She wasn't disappointed. "I wish he could get a schedule with some regular hours," Molly began, fretting as she spooned vegetables from the pot into a serving bowl. "He doesn't get enough sleep, and he never takes a day off. I know he's not eating right, I can just tell, but he'll never ask for help, that one…What he needs is a good woman to make sure he's taken care of..." She trailed off, muttering about Harry's unsatisfactory lifestyle. Ginny sighed; she had often thought the same things, and on nights when she wasn't at evening practices, she had to fight the temptation to pop over to Harry's flat with a covered dish.

She never did, though. For one thing, she was afraid of interrupting him on his few days off. What if he was sleeping, or with a woman? No way. She smirked at herself as she laid out fourteen place settings, making sure to omit sharp knives at the places of honor. A lesson they'd all learned the hard way. Besides, she thought, returning to the subject of Harry, she could admit to herself that she harbored a fear that he would still think of her as that irritating kid who had a crush on him. Like she was making excuses to show up and monopolize his attention.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft pop from the parlor, followed by the delighted shrieks of the twins. "Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry! You came to our party!"

Harry's deep voice answered them. Ginny smiled at the teasing laughter she could hear even from the kitchen. "You're having a party? You're kidding! Is it a party for me?"

"No!" the girls laughed, and at that moment, Harry walked in the kitchen door, one girl held high in each arm. Ginny was laughing along with them, but when she turned and saw him like that…something seemed to twist in her belly and it took her breath away for a moment. He looked so good like that. Well, not the black bruise on his face, but with children in his strong arms. The sensory perfection of it all washed over her…giggling children, loud brothers, the smell of roast, the feel of cutlery in her grasp, orange and pink streamers, and the man in the doorway with her precious girls in his arms. Tears sprang to her eyes. Both contentment and a deep longing welled up in her, and she turned away on the pretext of finishing setting the table.

"You're not having a party for me?" Harry said, pretending to be confused. "But what's it for? Orange and pink are my favorite colors!"

"It's our birthday!" the girls chorused, then collapsed against Harry's shoulders in a fit of renewed giggles.

"Oh, brilliant!" Harry said. "Then you'll give me a present, right?"

"No," said Victoria, placing her small hand on his cheek and turning his face toward hers. _"You_ have to give _us_ presents, Uncle Harry!"

"I do?"

"Oh, yes!" said Claire, her tiara shaking precariously on her blonde head. "It's the law, Uncle Harry."

"Oh, well, if it's the law…I guess I have to then, don't I?" he said. "Otherwise I'd have to put myself in Azkaban!"

More giggles, then Harry kissed their cheeks and set them down. They ran into the parlor, orange and pink blurs.

"Hey, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, kissing Molly on the cheek. "Dinner smells great."

Molly smiled at him and said, "Five minutes until we're ready, dear. What did you do to your face?"

Harry gave her a mock scowl. "I didn't do it! It was the bad guy!"

Mrs. Weasley frowned and gave a great sigh, but she limited herself to merely shaking her head and muttering into the potatoes.

Harry turned to Ginny. "Hey, Ginny. How's Quidditch?"

Damn. She'd actually managed to go an hour without thinking about Quidditch, about the choice she would have to make soon. "Er…it's good."

Harry stole a bit of icing from the edge of the cake, and raised his eyebrows at her with his finger in his mouth. A strange tingle went through her at the sight, but she shook it off.

"You sure?" he asked around his finger.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I'm sure. How's Auror-ing?"

"Er…" he said, wiping his finger on his robe. "It's good."

She looked at him a moment longer, wondering if there was as much hidden meaning packed into his "it's good" as there was in hers. She didn't have time to think about it, though, because at that moment Molly yelled, "Dinner!" and the stampede of Weasleys began.

An hour later, Ginny collapsed back into her chair, taking a moment to rest in the deserted kitchen while she cuddled Percy's sleepy son against her shoulder. She had tried not to be grabby with the baby, knowing that in the hierarchy of things Molly had first rights to all babies. Ginny had finally offered to Penelope, in the most nonchalant voice she could manage, to hold the baby while Penelope and Percy finished eating, pretending as best she could that her arms weren't aching for him.

The kitchen was empty, but squeals and cheers came from the garden. Ginny's gifts to the girls, a miniature Firebolt for Victoria and a miniature flying carpet for Claire, were being tried out with enthusiasm by all involved. The last Ginny had looked, Fred and George were placing bets on which girl would win a race around the yard, and whispering loud suggestions in the twins' ears on how to cheat.

Ginny looked down at little Christopher. He had her family's trademark red hair, and Penny's blue eyes. She bent down and kissed his soft forehead, then nuzzled the soft skin beneath his ear. He smelled so sweet and fresh, she thought, inhaling his scent. He felt different than the girls had, solid and chubby, and the girls had felt frail and delicate. Of course, that had proved to be deceptive; there was nothing delicate about her girls.

Harry stepped inside the door with a handful of empty butterbeer bottles. He was still smiling at the spectacle of Fred and George trying to ride the girls' gifts around the yard and ending up on their backsides on the ground. When he saw Ginny, he stopped short. She was holding the new baby, and as he watched she bent her head and placed a kiss on his forehead. Something tightened in Harry's belly; she looked so right like that. He felt a surge of something unfamiliar--if it hadn't been Ginny, he might almost have called it possessiveness. Or perhaps, protectiveness. But whatever it was, it felt right, too.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and continued into the kitchen. "Hi," he said softly.

Ginny looked up. Harry blinked and caught his breath at the expression on her face. He had seen her in battle and in Quidditch, he had held her as she wept after her father had died. He knew Ginny's face as well as he knew Ron's or Hermione's, but he had never seen her face like that. Soft, content, almost glowing.

"Hi," she said back, shifting the baby a bit. "You're missing the fun out there."

Harry smiled and held up the butterbeer bottles. "Just cleaning up a little," he said.

Ginny waved her free hand. "Don't worry about that. Mum and I will get it all later."

"I don't mind," he said, disposing of the bottles and pulling out a bottle of ale. "Want one?" he asked. She nodded, and he grabbed another one and handed it to her. He tapped the tops with his wand, then leaned back against the counter and took a drink.

"Seeing anyone these days, Weasley?" Harry asked. He knew that between Quidditch and helping raise the twins, she didn't have much time for a social life, but that had always seemed wrong to him. She was so young and pretty, she should be going out with lots of blokes. Then he frowned. For some reason he found he didn't like that thought one bit.

"No," she said, "not really. Zabini keeps asking me out, but I don't think he'd be so interested if I didn't keep beating him in scrimmages." She took an absent drink of her ale.

Harry scowled. "Blaise Zabini? He was a Slytherin. You can't go out with him." He said this last part so firmly that Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"I _can't?"_ she said in a challenging voice.

Harry flushed. "Er, well, I mean...you can do better than that, is all."

"How about you, Potter? Got a girlfriend?"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Nope, no girlfriend." He took a drink of his ale and gazed out the window for a moment. "Neither does Kingsley."

He said this last without thinking, and Ginny laughed. "Thinking of asking him out, then, are you?"

Harry scowled and turned even more red. "No! Of course not. It just--it just came up in conversation is all."

Ginny was about to answer when the family started pouring in from the garden. Fred and George were smiling and wiping grass and dirt from their robes. Penelope followed them in and made a beeline for Ginny, gathering her son from her arms. Ginny reluctantly let him go, and watched as the rest of her brothers and her mum came in, replenished ales or butterbeers, and made their way to the parlor. Ginny finished her ale and followed them restlessly. Maybe it would be nice to get some time with her sisters-in-law or Ron before everyone split up for the night.

Bill stoked the fire, helping to ward off the chill that had settled as the sun went down. Everyone found places on the couch or in one of the many battered chairs crowding the room. Ginny plopped down on the floor and gathered Claire up in her arms. Harry heard the little girl say, "I'm not sleepy..." but she didn't argue when Ginny shushed her and pressed her head against her shoulder.

Something tugged at his shirt and Harry looked down. It was Victoria, still dressed in her Cannons' robes. She held up her arms and Harry lifted her up.

"I'm a Seeker like you, right, Uncle Harry?" she said on a yawn.

"That's right," Harry murmured. He shifted Victoria's weight and leaned against the doorjamb. The little girl rested her head on Harry's shoulder.

Charlie stood up in the center of the room, causing Harry to look up over Victoria's head. Luna was watching her husband with a dreamy smile, but then, that wasn't unusual. Luna always looked at Charlie that way. But Charlie's face was growing pink, and his ears had gone bright red, and that was rather unusual.

"Er...'scuse me..." Charlie stammered. Then, as the noise level failed to abate, he yelled, "Oy! Over here! I have an announcement!"

The conversations died away as everyone turned to look at Charlie. "I have something--er, I mean, Luna and I wanted to-- that is-- well, we're going to have a baby!"

A loud cheer went up in the room, but over it all Harry heard another shriek. Hermione had jumped up and run over to Luna and flung her arms around her.

"Me, too! Luna! Me, too! We're having a baby, too!" Luna gave Hermione a brilliant smile and returned her hug. Molly burst into tears and the Weasley men gave each other one-armed hugs while Harry stepped forward to shake Ron's hand.

"Congratulations, mate," he said sincerely. He ignored the little burn in his gut. He was happy for Ron and Hermione. There was no reason to go outside and sulk on his own, as he suddenly felt like doing.

Ron blushed, but couldn't suppress his grin. "Thanks, Harry," he said, shaking his head. "It's still a bit hard to believe."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ginny make her way to Luna and give her a warm hug, maneuvering around Claire's sleeping body. She turned to Hermione and did the same thing. Harry stepped past her on the way to shake Charlie's hand, and noticed that while she was smiling, here eyes were very bright. Nobody else seemed to notice, though.

Harry clapped Charlie on the back and stooped to kiss Luna's cheek, balancing a dozing Victoria as he did. Babies were always a welcome addition at the Weasley house, and Harry felt a pang that Arthur wasn't there for this night. But speaking of babies, he thought he'd better get the one in his arms into her bed before the normal Weasley raucous woke her again.

He looked around for Bill, who was now holding Claire. Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

"Oy, Bill," he called, shielding Victoria's ear as he shouted. "Shall we take them up?"

"Yeah," Bill answered. "Thanks, mate."

He and Bill carried the twins up to their room, which was Ginny's old room on the second floor. Harry took just a moment to squeeze the little girl to him and kiss the top of her red head. Victoria and Claire, he thought as he opened their door. Victory and Light. They would probably never know how their birth had changed things. The newspapers wouldn't report that everything had changed, for Harry and for the Weasleys, when they had looked into those pink little faces and seen the future.

"Just lie her on her bed," whispered Bill, nodding toward the twin bed with the orange comforter. He laid Claire on the pink satin one and began to remove her fancy beaded shoes. Harry unlaced Victoria's Quidditch trainers and her black leather gloves, then unzipped her orange robe. She even wore the regulation shorts and jersey underneath, Harry thought in amusement. Across the back of her jersey was her name, "V. Weasley," and the number 4.

Bill was slipping a pink nightgown over Claire's limp body. Harry made sure that Victoria wouldn't fall off the bed, then turned to Bill and whispered, "I'll let you take care of the rest, all right?"

Bill nodded as he tried to stuff one of Claire's arms into her sleeve. "All right, then. Thanks for the help."

Harry bent and kissed each of his girls, then left the room, trying hard to ignore the ache in the region of his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 Career Advice**

Harry made his way back downstairs. A glance into the parlor told him that Ginny wasn't in there, and for some reason, though he was happy for all of them, he didn't feeling like returning to the celebration, either. Hermione and Luna sat in the best chairs in the center of the room, queens for the day, while the men congratulated each other on their virility and waited on the mothers-to-be. Harry could hear Percy pompously giving out advice about how to deal with a pregnant woman. Harry rolled his eyes; some things never changed.

He grabbed another ale from the ice box and made his way out into the garden. He loved the Weasleys, and he felt like they were the family he had never had. He never missed a birthday, or a Victory Day gathering, or just a Sunday dinner if he could help it. And he knew that they accepted him as one of them without giving it a second thought. But there was something about being here that made him wistful, restless. More so tonight, for some reason. It made him think on his flat in Diagon Alley with something like regret.

Harry wandered into the yard alone, not really going anywhere, enjoying the feeling of the darkness all around him. The sounds of the family wafted to his ears on the cool air. Someone inside the house had turned on the WWN, and soft music wove among the sounds of conversation. But they were back there, and he was out here. He was about to throw himself on the ground and stretch out on the grass when he heard a sound. It was a very soft sound, but thanks to his Auror training it was in his nature to notice even the smallest details of his surroundings.

Harry stepped farther into the yard. Now he could see her shadow, sitting under the big tree on the edge of the yard. She'd be invisible from the house, which he assumed was what she had hoped for. He listened harder, and he was surprised to realize that she was crying. He quickly but quietly covered the distance between them, then sat down next to her in the darkness. He didn't say anything, but pulled her toward him, so that her head rested on his shoulder, and his arm was around hers.

She turned her face into his robe and continued to sob softly. He felt so good, so strong, and she was being so stupid and weak, but she couldn't help it. She was happy for her brothers and Hermione and Luna, and she could hardly think of anything better than having more babies around. She didn't even know why she was crying, for Merlin's sake, but she pressed her hands against the ache low in her belly and cried anyway.

After a while she raised her head from Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said softly, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Harry didn't say anything, just handed her a handkerchief. She cleaned up her face as best she could, and Harry offered her a sip of his ale. She smiled and took it gratefully.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Harry asked gently, his eyes on her face.

Ginny wrapped her arms around her knees and looked out into the night. "I don't know," she sighed. "Really. I'd tell you if I did." That much was true. She and Harry were friends; they had been able to talk for years now. Though she had to admit that recently they'd both been so busy there hadn't been much time for it.

"Everything okay with the team?"

Ginny laughed. "Yeah, it is," she said. "More than okay, actually. Coach Lynch wants to bring me up to first string. A starting position."

"Ginny! That's great!" Harry exclaimed with a grin. "Congratulations! Why didn't you announce that tonight? I know everyone will be thrilled."

Ginny looked down at her knees. "Because I haven't decided whether to accept yet."

"Are you kidding?" Harry said incredulously. "Why not?"

Ginny shrugged, and leaned back against the tree, her shoulder touching Harry's. "I don't know. I know I should be excited, but it just doesn't sound as thrilling as I thought it would."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I know _exactly_ what you mean."

Ginny glanced at him in the shadow. "Do you?"

"Uh huh," he said. "This morning Kingsley told me he was being promoted to Head of Department, and he offered me his position."

"Really?" said Ginny, her eyes going wide. "Harry, that's amazing! Second in the department at your age!"

"Uh huh," he said again, in a carefully neutral voice.

Ginny gave him a swift look. "Oh, I see," she said. "You haven't decided whether to take it."

Harry shook his head. "Nope."

"What did you say to Kingsley?" she asked curiously.

Harry gave her a wry smile. "I asked him if he'd ever been married, or if he had a girlfriend. You should have seen him squirm."

They both laughed at that, then fell silent. Ginny leaned her head against Harry's shoulder again and sighed. "What's the matter with us, then, Harry?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Wish I did."

Ginny slipped her arm behind Harry's back, and he put his arm around her shoulders again, drawing her even closer. She was now almost cradled in his arm, which should have been awkward, but felt perfectly natural. She felt him rest his cheek against the top of her head. They sat like that for a long time, listening to the faint music coming from the house.

"Ginny?"

"Hmm?"

"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"

She blew out a breath, thinking about it. "Depends," she said. "If I move up to the big leagues, I could be captain of the team, or even coaching by then. It's not a bad way to spend my life."

"And if you don't?"

"I don't know. They might not let me keep playing." She was silent for a moment, thinking that through. "What about you?"

He was silent for a moment. "If I take Kingsley's job, I could be getting ready to follow him as Head of Department."

"And if you don't?"

"I dunno...more of the same, I guess. No sleep, bad food, lonely flat above a shop in Diagon Alley..."

"Coming home with bruises?" She reached up and touched the side of his face gently.

"Yeah," he said, enjoying the feel of her cool fingers on his bruised skin.

"Sounds miserable."

"Yeah, it really does, doesn't it?" He closed his eyes and felt the night breeze blowing over them. He was surprised at how nice it was to sit out here with her like this. He pulled her closer to him and asked, "But what's your _dream,_ Ginny? I mean, if you could have everything the way you wanted, if you could pick out the perfect life, what would it be? Where would your dream take you in ten years?"

Ginny sat up and away from him and wrapped her arms around her knees again. She was so quiet for so long that Harry wondered if she was going to refuse to answer. He listened to the music and studied her profile while he waited.

She gave a great sigh. "I'll tell you, Harry, but you can't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay."

"I don't really want to play professional Quidditch," she began, twirling the end of her plait between her fingers. "Can you believe a Weasley would say that?" Harry smirked and she glanced over her shoulder at him, smiling a little. "Well, I mean, I love Quidditch, and I love to fly most of all, and I wouldn't give them up completely. But I--" she broke off on a frustrated little sound.

"What, Ginny? Tell me."

"I'd like to get married," she blurted out, resting her hands on her abdomen again. "And have babies. That's why tonight, when Hermione and Luna--" She broke off and shook her head. "I want what Mum and Dad had, but my own way, with my own house and my own husband and lots of my own kids...I want to take care of them, all of them, like Mum does."

Harry looked at her in the shadows. "That's your dream?"

She nodded, too embarrassed to look at him.

"Did you have someone in mind?" Harry asked. For no reason he found he was getting angry. "I mean, you can't do this alone..."

"No," Ginny said. "I don't even have a boyfriend, and I refuse to marry someone I don't love just so I can have kids." She sighed and looked up into the sky. "So, I might as well play Quidditch."

Harry's anger faded as quickly as it had come. She didn't even have anyone in mind. He remembered walking into the house earlier that evening and seeing Ginny, holding a baby in her arms, surrounded by noise and the messy remnants of a family dinner. He remembered thinking that she looked perfect that way. And as he remembered, the restlessness and aggravation of his life, the tight ball of stress and frustration that he had held inside so long, began to loosen. What would it be like to come home at the end of a day and be greeted by that sight? What would it be like if the twins he had held earlier were his own, if they called him Daddy instead of Uncle Harry?

It would be perfect.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Er...Ginny? D'you want to know what my dream is?"

She turned her face toward him. "Yeah."

"When Kingsley called me into his office this morning, I thought he was going to offer me Tonks' position, training the new Aurors," he said looking down at his folded hands. "I thought--I mean, I think I'd like to teach this stuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I mean, I wasn't bad when I taught the DA, was I?"

She shook her head. "No, you were great. I still remember all the stuff you taught me."

He nodded, trying to find words for what he wanted to say. "I can't take Kingsley's job, Ginny. He doesn't have a life. He doesn't have a home. I can't stand the thought of living like that forever. I want--" He took a deep breath. "I want a home. Not just a flat above a shop."

Ginny was quiet as she considered that. They wanted the same thing; she because she had always known it, and he because he had never known it. That would take some thinking about. But one thing was clear to her; she felt closer to Harry right now than she ever had done before. She supposed that sharing their deepest secrets would do that.

Harry stood up, brushing the grass off his robes. Ginny barely suppressed a groan of disappointment; she wasn't ready to end this quiet conversation. And she didn't want him to leave yet. But when she looked up at him, he wasn't walking away. Rather, he was holding out his hand to her. Without a word, she took it and he drew her up into his arms. The music from the house wafted over them, and she leaned against Harry's solid chest as they began to sway in time to the music.

As far as Harry was concerned, the song could go on forever and it wouldn't be long enough. Yet again he felt that sense of rightness wash over him as he held Ginny in his arms, her body pressing against his. Why had he never noticed how well they fit together? He had hugged her before, as a friend, even in a brotherly way, but this was different. Following the impulse of the moment, he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. She gasped softly, then closed her eyes and parted her lips. He kissed her gently, almost reverently, as though he couldn't believe she was real, and she trembled in his arms.

She hadn't thought of Harry like this in a long time, since she was in school. She had been over him for a long time, and was content to be his friend. But now he was kissing her, and suddenly all her dreams and desires took on a new focus. She felt herself quiver, and his arms tightened around her. The music was in their heartbeats now, keeping time as their kiss deepened. They continued to sway to its rhythm, their mouths playing over each other, unhurried and gentle, while their breath came faster and mixed together.

The song came to an end, and so did the kiss. Ginny's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled to see that the lenses of Harry's glasses were fogged up. He scowled and removed them, cleaning them on his robes while she watched, unable to take her eyes away from his face. It was such a familiar and well-loved face, but tonight it seemed to be the most beautiful face she had ever seen.

He replaced his glasses and looked down at her. She held her breath, waiting to see what he would say. He cleared his throat. "Ginny, I--" He broke off, swallowed, then started again. "Come home with me."

Ginny tilted her head back and laughed as joy bubbled up in her. She stood on her toes and pressed her lips hard against his. Before he could respond she drew back and looked up at him. "No."

He shook his head. "I know, I'm sorry, that wasn't what I meant to say..." He pressed his forehead against hers, so that Ginny felt the thin line of the scar against her skin. "Have lunch with me tomorrow."

"Okay."

"And dinner."

Ginny laughed again. "Okay."

"And breakfast the next day."

"We'll see..."

He gathered her up in his arms again and held her close. Suddenly he was sure about so many things that had confused him before.

"Ginny," he said, "When do you have to tell your coach about the position?"

She pressed her face into his chest. "They gave me until after the match on Victory Day. When do you have to tell Kingsley?"

"He gave me until Monday, but I think I can get him to wait until Victory Day."

She raised her head to look at him. "Why? You don't want to do it, why string him along?"

Harry shrugged. "I won't, but--"

"Harry!" Ginny said sharply. "If you sell out your dream now, I'll never forgive you!"

Harry gave her a long look. Everything had changed tonight. He couldn't sell out his dreams because all his dreams were bound up in her now. "I won't, Ginny. I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 Hold Fast to Dreams**

Harry decided that for this one weekend, he would put real life on hold. He would not accept any owls, he would close off his hearth to the Floo, and he would not think about things like careers or even the future. Except insofar as it included Ginny.

It was as though they had never really known each other. They talked all through lunch about common memories, and Harry discovered that Ginny had a perspective on things that he had never considered. They talked all through dinner about their dreams for the future, and Ginny made it all sound so real, so possible, that he knew his heart would break if it didn't happen just the way she said.

And he couldn't stop touching her. This was Ginny, he kept reminding himself, this was the girl he had touched a million times and never had sparks ignite. He had never felt like this around another woman, never felt that he couldn't breathe right if he wasn't holding her hand, never felt that each kiss caused him to teeter on the fine line between reverence and lust. She was the most precious thing he had ever known, he wanted to take care of her and make sure she was never hurt. But at the same time he felt a base need to get his hands on her naked skin, to lick and suck and thrust himself into her. The two feelings warred within him constantly, coming to a head when he kissed her good night on Saturday night.

He carried her shopping bags through the Floo for her, then placed them carefully on the table in the Burrow's kitchen. It was late and Molly, Bill, and the twins had gone to bed. He looked at Ginny in the candlelight and caught his breath.

"Why did this take so long?" he wondered out loud. "I mean, we've known each other for years, for half our lives."

Ginny smiled at him. "I don't know. Maybe the time wasn't right before now."

Harry stepped closer and closed his hands over her shoulders. "You're so beautiful, Ginny. I love you so much."

Her eyes grew wide, then filled with tears. "You do? I mean--it seems so soon!"

Harry shook his head. It didn't even matter if she didn't love him back yet. Well, it mattered a little..."I don't know. It's like...like everything has been leading to this."

She nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist. "That's exactly how I feel. Like all the pieces are falling into place. I just didn't think you could love me already. I thought it must just be me."

He blinked at her. "You thought it was just you? Are you trying to tell me you love me?"

"Oh, er, yeah," she laughed. "I am. I do love you, Harry."

For some reason he was awed by her declaration. It amazed him that she knew him so well and loved him anyway. He bent to place a soft kiss on her mouth, but when their lips met it was as though a switch had been flipped, and he felt his need for her rush over him. He kissed her roughly, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She moaned and pressed herself against him and his hands found the firm muscles of her arse.

He stumbled forward until she was pressed against the kitchen table, and he raised her up to it and set her on it. His hand covered her breast as he tipped her backward, trying to get her lying beneath him on the table. All that mattered was getting her body under his. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands pulling him down to her. His hips thrust against hers, seeking her heat even through their clothes. He had to get to her skin. He reached under her shirt and began to tug it up, his hands shaking with his need as they skimmed the skin of her sides.

But then she was pushing him back. Her breathing was coming very fast. "Stop, stop," she panted. He didn't want to stop, couldn't, and he kept kissing whatever parts of her he could reach, her knees, her belly, her shoulder...

"Harry, please," she said weakly. "I don't want my first time to be on the kitchen table."

Harry drew in a breath and stopped. "Your first time?"

She nodded, her face turning a bit pink. "Yeah."

He still wanted her, but now he was flooded with the protective emotions that always lurked somewhere nearby. "I'm sorry," he said huskily. "We should wait...I'll try to control myself better."

She glanced up at him. "I like it when you can't control yourself."

Lust surged in him again and he squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh."

She sighed, and he removed his hands from where they rested on her thighs. It was not a good idea to touch her right now. On her thighs, her firm, smooth thighs...he shook his head to make himself stop thinking about her thighs.

"It's just...I always said I would wait..." Her face grew very red, and he knew she meant "wait until marriage."

He bent his forehead to hers again. "I know...it's fine...it's good...we can wait..." He took a deep breath, then said, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"I have to take care of the girls tomorrow."

"I'll come over here, then, all right?" he said. "We can take them on a picnic or something."

She gave him a brilliant smile. "All right, then."

And he Apparated home to his lonely flat above a shop. But he didn't care. He knew now that it was temporary.

On Monday morning Ginny sent an owl, then turned back to the kitchen to make breakfast for herself and the twins. The twins chattered on about their birthday and their presents, but Ginny wasn't really paying attention. It wasn't until Harry's name came up that her thoughts were dragged away from...well, Harry.

Claire was looking at her with a very serious look for someone who was only four. Ginny raised her eyebrows. "What did you say, Claire?"

"I said," said Claire, and for a moment she looked exactly like Fleur, "are you going to marry Uncle Harry?"

Ginny started. "Er...well, I don't know," she said carefully, resolutely ignoring the leap her stomach took. "I mean, he hasn't asked me."

Claire frowned. "Well, you can't, Auntie Ginny. You just can't."

"I can't?" Ginny asked. "Why not?"

Victoria piped up, "Because she's going to marry Uncle Harry, and I'm going to marry Daddy."

"Are you?" Ginny asked. Both girls nodded vigorously. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Because Uncle Harry and I are the only two who don't have red hair," explained Claire, rolling her eyes at her aunt's obtuseness, "so we match."

"Oh, I see," said Ginny. It made perfect sense to her. Then, taking a deep breath, she asked, "What if I do marry Uncle Harry?"

"Then I'll have to fight Victoria for Daddy," said Claire matter-of-factly, "and you're always telling us not to fight."

She was so wide-eyed and innocent that Ginny had to laugh. She had seen that look on Fred's and George's faces a hundred times; it always spelled mischief at the very least.

Ginny got the girls dressed, giving Molly a chance to wake up more fully and spend some time in her garden before the day got too warm. It was a routine that worked for them both, since Ginny didn't have to be at Quidditch practice until one o'clock. She sent the twins out into the yard to play with their new birthday gifts, and was surprised to find that Molly was in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea, rather than working with her herbs and flowers.

Molly gave her a very direct look over the top of her tea cup. Ginny did her best not to blush under her mother's scrutiny, but it was a struggle.

"So," Molly began, a smile playing around her lips, "are you going to marry Uncle Harry?"

"Mum!" Ginny said crossly.

"You can't keep secrets from me, young lady," Molly said firmly. Ginny's face grew hot as she thought of the encounter she and Harry had had here in the kitchen Saturday night. She fervently hoped there were at least _some_ secrets she could keep from her mum.

"Mm-hmmm," said Molly, with an all-knowing smile as she watched her youngest child go red in the face. "Something changed the night of the party, Ginny."

Ginny sighed, then found herself grinning a goofy grin. Good Lord, she must look just like Ron. "I don't know, Mum," she said. "It's just happened so fast, but it's perfect. He...he says he loves me." She couldn't help it, her smile blossomed at the thought.

Molly nodded. "Then I expect he does," she said. "He's not the kind of man to use those words freely."

Ginny shook her head. "I know. But don't you think--I mean, it's awfully fast."

"Do you doubt it?" Molly asked.

Ginny twirled the end of her plait in her fingers while she took a moment to look deep into her feelings. She tried to be as honest as she could, but there was nothing there but the strength and purity of this new love. It was a little strange, a little scary, but it was real. She shook her head. "No, Mum, I really don't doubt it."

Molly sipped her tea calmly. "This has been coming for a long time, Ginny," she said.

"It has?"

Molly nodded. "It has. Sometimes our hearts are working out things that are kept secret even from us until the time is right."

Ginny glanced over at her mother. She didn't know what to say to that. Was that what had been going on with her and Harry?

At that moment an owl landed on the windowsill and Ginny looked away from her mother to walk over and retrieve the message. She let the owl drink from her mug of tea while she skimmed over the letter in her hand.

Molly was watching her inquiringly, but Ginny just smiled. "Mum, Bill and I won't be here for dinner Thursday. Can you watch the girls?"

Molly blinked. "Of course. But where will you be?

Ginny shook her head. "I don't want to say just yet, in case it doesn't work out."

"All right," Molly said, giving her best long-suffering sigh. "Fine, don't tell me..."

"Thanks, Mum."

On Monday morning he told Kingsley he needed until Victory Day to come to a decision about the promotion. Kingsley looked at him suspiciously, but granted his request. Then Harry sent Hedwig off with a note before meeting with his unit to yell at them about last week's screw-ups. But he wasn't really yelling. He knew he should come down harder on them, but he was too happy for that. He was in such a good mood, in fact, that several of the people in his unit gave him strange looks. But he didn't care. Nothing could ruin his happiness today.

Hedwig returned just before lunch, so he read the note and slipped it into his pocket. The minute his lunch break started at twelve o'clock, he ran to Kingsley's office to use the secure Floo. In his eagerness to make this call, he slammed the door behind him, leaving several Aurors out in the hallway shaking their heads and wondering what was going on with him today.

He dropped to his knees, yelled, "The Burrow!" and stuck his head into the green flames. "Ginny!" he called. "Oy! Ginny!"

In a flash the three most beautiful girls in the world were kneeling on the floor in front of him. Ginny and the twins had come running, amid shouts of "Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry's here!" Harry noticed to his pleasure that Ginny gave him another one of those brilliant glowing smiles, but it was a moment before she could calm the girls down enough to send them back to their lunch so she and Harry could talk.

"Er...hi," he finally said, then kicked himself mentally for sounding like an idiot.

"Hi," Ginny responded cheerfully. "How's your day?"

"Fine," he said. "But I miss you. Listen, will you have dinner with me?"

"Yes," Ginny said, her face going pink. "That'd be great." Merlin, how was she going to go seven more hours without seeing him?

"Will you spend the night?"

"Harry!" Ginny said, half shocked, half laughing. "My mum is right here!"

Molly bent down and gave him a cheery wave. "Hello, Harry, dear."

Harry's face went red, but he grinned. "Oh, er, hi, Mrs. Weasley. I was only kidding about that last."

"Mmmm-hmmm," Mrs. Weasley said skeptically, righting herself again.

Ginny turned back to Harry. "I have practice until six, though. Can I just come to your place after?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling. Ginny smiled back and they sat there gazing at each other until Ginny heard someone yell, "Potter!" far in the background.

Harry winced. "Sorry, gotta go. See you tonight."

"Bye," Ginny said, but he had already gone.

She knew Coach Ollerton was watching her, but she wasn't worried about it. In fact, she played her best, energized by her new-found feelings for Harry. Everything in life was enjoyable today, everything made her happy and gave her pleasure. She whooped as the Quaffle she had tossed sailed past Zabini and into the center hoop; she wished the exhibition game were tonight, right now, because she felt like she could take on the world.

Besides feeling like she could take on any first-string team, she was glad she was playing her best because wasn't sure she was ready to close the door on Coach Lynch's offer to move up. She didn't think she could stand it if Harry took that job in the Auror department just for her, just so she didn't have to play Quidditch if she didn't want to. And he would do it, too; she knew him well enough to know that he would make that sacrifice for her if it would make her happy. _Well, forget that,_ she thought as she went into a steep dive, trying to catch the Quaffle before it hit the ground. No way was she going to have him gone eighteen hours a day just so she didn't have to work. He wanted a home, and she'd be damned if she'd let him give up on that dream for her sake. If she played Quidditch, she'd bring in a lot of money, and Harry could do whatever he wanted for a living.

She caught the Quaffle and came smoothly out of the dive as Coach blew her whistle. The team hit the ground and headed for the locker rooms. Ginny narrowly avoided Zabini by tossing him the Quaffle then ducking into the women's locker room. He was going to ask her out again, she was sure of it. Git. She took a quick shower, then threw on a nice robe-- comfortable but attractive-- and took her time applying her makeup. She didn't usually wear makeup, but she wanted to look nice for Harry tonight.

That thought made her laugh at herself in wry mockery as she applied some light mascara. As if Harry hadn't seen her a thousand times at her very worst. Half dead in the Chamber of Secrets, pale and sick from the pain of her broken ankle in the Department of Mysteries, bleeding and burnt from the final battle, sick and retching from crying when her father died.

Well, that didn't matter. He'd see her at her worst again, she was sure. But for now, she wanted to look nice. She pressed her lips together to blot her lipstick, stuffed her uniform in her locker, and Disapparated.

She Apparated outside of Harry's awful little flat, and knocked. The door opened as soon as her knuckles hit the wood, and Harry reached out to grab her and pull her in. Before she could say hello, before she could even think, he was kissing her. Her lips, her cheeks, her neck, her ears. She turned her face toward his and returned his kisses gladly, and then urgently, her hands roaming all over him--shoulders, chest, hips-- pulling him to her as though he were oxygen and she would drown if she didn't inhale him.

Harry was nibbling on her neck and he muttered something, but she didn't understand him. "Hmmm...?" she asked breathlessly, then ran her tongue down the line of his jaw. Oh, God, he tasted so good, like sweat and water and skin, with just a bit of roughness from evening shadow. She bit him lightly and he groaned. Her mouth traveled down the column of his neck, which tasted even better.

"I said--" he began, then broke off as her hand slid inside his waistband. "Oh, God, Ginny..."

He pulled her to him roughly, and just then there was a knock on the door. Harry didn't stop. Neither did Ginny, but the knock came again. "Harry--" she gasped. "Door..."

"What?" he said distractedly, his word muffled due to the fact that his mouth was against her breast. "Oh--"

He stepped back and shook his head rapidly. They were both taking deep gasping breaths, and Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes. Then he gave her a crooked grin, and she started for him again, but the knock came again. He stepped around her and opened the door.

"Took you so long?" said an irritated voice. "Been standing out here for ten minutes."

"Sorry," said Harry. "Here, take this. Sorry for your trouble." He stepped back in the door with his arms laden with carryout bags.

"I got Chinese," he said. "I figured if I tried to cook you'd never want to see me again."

Ginny smiled at him fondly. She knew he couldn't cook more than the basics. That was all right with her; she could cook. She wanted to cook for him, to take care of him.

They sat on the floor and ate directly out of the cartons, talking and laughing and sharing their day. By unspoken consent they kept their hands to themselves, for the most part, though she could not resist occasionally resting a hand on his knee, or leaning up to kiss his cheek. She laughed when he always seemed to stutter and lose track of what he was saying in those moments.

The next two days followed the same pattern, and Ginny felt she had never been so happy in her life. Harry would call her at lunch, and they would make their plans for the evening, and Ginny would go on to Quidditch and play better than she ever had before. Then Harry would meet her at the door and she'd fall into his arms. They pushed each other to the edge of their control, and sometimes a bit past it, before they broke apart again, half-dressed, panting, more frustrated and more in love than ever.

Thursday morning Harry sent Hedwig to Kingsley's office ahead of him to tell him he would be late. Harry knew Kingsley wouldn't complain too much; Harry had put in twice as many hours as necessary in the past few months. There was no way Kingsley would get after him for taking an hour or two.

He spent his free hours in the jewelry shop below his flat. It was Thursday; he had been in love with Ginny for nearly a week, and he couldn't wait any longer. The truth was, he had been ready to ask her last Saturday night, after they'd spent the day together, after he'd nearly torn her clothes off and taken her on her mother's kitchen table.

God, he was growing hard at the memory. Thank Merlin for wizard's robes, he thought, adjusting himself subtly. Stop thinking about that, he ordered his unruly mind. You're here for something important. He wandered through the store for another hour, choosing rings and discarding them, trying to be patient while the salesman extolled the virtues of each one of his choices. But none of them was right; he would know the right one when he saw it.

And then he did see it. It was a ruby, small enough to be elegant, but big enough to be noticeable. It was in a gold setting, and he thought that the red and gold Gryffindor colors suited her. His heart sped up; he felt like it was in his throat, making it hard for him to swallow. This was for real. It was scary, he admitted, but it was right. She was his home. She was his dream come true.

He held out the ring for the salesman, then laid a large handful of Galleons on the counter. He had done it. He turned and walked out of the shop, then ran up the back stairs to his flat. He flung open the door and ran to the hearth, sliding on his knees as he threw a handful of powder into the fire.

"Ginny! Ginny!" he called, and he had to smile when the twins came running and flung themselves down on the floor. They were no longer in their birthday outfits; Victoria wore jeans and an orange Cannons' jersey, and Claire wore a long flowing pink skirt with a ruffly lavender blouse. Harry noticed Claire even carried a handbag and had her nails painted a delicate pink, while Victoria's nails were caked with dirt.

"How are my best girls?" Harry asked, and both girls started in on long involved accounts of their day, which, as far as Harry could tell, involved trying to put lipstick on the cat. His back and knees had started to cramp up before he could get a word in edgewise. "That's great, girls. Er...is your Auntie Ginny around?"

Claire sighed dramatically. "Yes, Uncle Harry, I'll go get her." She stood up and walked out of Harry's sight.

"She's just mad because she wanted to marry you and now Nana says that Auntie Ginny is going to marry you," Victoria explained in one breath.

Harry blinked. "Nana says that, does she?" Victoria nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but just then she squealed as she was lifted up out of Harry's sight. The next second Ginny knelt down in the place where the twins had been.

"Hi," she said, giving him that smile he loved.

"Hi," he said, catching his breath. God, she was beautiful. "Er...sorry. Got distracted. Let's go out tonight, shall we? Someplace nice?"

To his surprise, her smile faded. "I'm sorry, Harry, I can't go out tonight. I have some other things I have to do."

"You do?" His heart sank. Did she think it was easy for a bloke to get up his nerve to ask a girl to marry him? "Well, I can come along with you, then. We'll eat later."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry, I can't."

A terrible thought struck Harry. He was moving too fast, he knew it, and she had decided to see another man. "What's going on, Ginny?" he asked, and was gratified to see her eyes widen at his angry tone.

"Nothing," she said, frowning. "I just can't go out tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, though, all right?"

"No, it bloody well is not!" Harry shouted. "Who are you seeing, Ginny? Going out with that Slytherin you play Quidditch with?"

"Harry, don't be stupid," Ginny snapped at him. "You know I'm not going out with anyone else. Let's go out tomorrow, all right?"

"I can't," Harry snarled. He should shut up, he knew it, but his fear and insecurity were driving his anger, making it impossible to control his temper. "I have plans tomorrow night. Maybe Zabini can keep you company."

"Knock it off, Potter!" Ginny yelled. "You're being so immature! I'm allowed to have one night in a week to myself, you know!"

"Fine!" he shouted. "Have them all to yourself, see if I care!" He pulled his head out of the fire and leapt to his feet, though the movement was not as graceful as it usually was because of the cramping in his knees. For a moment he paced, full of anxiety that he channeled effectively into anger. He spun and punched the wall. The crunch was satisfying for a moment, until the pain set in. That only made him more angry.

He Apparated from his flat to the Ministry. Stalking into the Auror department, he let the door slam behind him. He should get his broken hand fixed, but he was still too angry. Grabbing a passing member of his unit, he snapped, "Call the unit together. We have to go over last week's mistakes again."


	6. Chapter 6

**Career Advice: Victory Day**

by Strider

**Chapter 6 Victory Day**

Albus Dumbledore gazed at the three notes lying on the desk in front of him. He had responded to all of them, of course, but at the moment he was contemplating the one written in Molly Weasley's hurried hand.

_Albus,  
I do believe they're finally coming 'round. See if you can't help them, won't you?  
Molly_

Coming 'round, indeed, thought Dumbledore, stroking his long silver beard. Coming 'round with a passion, from all accounts. It really was lovely.

Lovely, but strange.

Why now, he wondered. Why only now, four years after each had determined to have a future at all? Why now, when each had both a good-enough choice and a better choice spread out before them?

Albus was a romantic old fool; he knew that. He had always suspected that these two were destined for each other, for love and a shared future. It wasn't anything but the fact that he saw in them kindred spirits…and that he liked to see his favorites happy. But he couldn't push them, couldn't send them an owl saying, "The one who was meant for you is right in front of your eyes." He had learned that the hard way, in all his years of teaching and mentoring young people on the verge of adulthood. You just can't push them. They have to figure it out on their own, or it just isn't the same.

But wasn't it…well, wasn't it just something else that it was only now, not just this time in history, but right now, this week, that Albus could actually help them as Molly had requested. Had they written him last week, he would have had nothing to offer. Had they written him next week, he might have given to someone else the one thing he did have to offer. But they didn't. They wrote this week, and wasn't Fate just funny that way.

Albus tapped one of the silver instruments with his wand. Smoky words came floating out of it: "30 minutes until your Thursday evening appointment. 24 hours and 30 minutes until your Friday evening appointment." He was meeting friends for dinner at the Three Broomsticks. He'd better hurry.

By the time Albus had kept all his appointments, both Thursday's and Friday's, he had a new set of facts. He sent out two owls, then sat in the dawning light of Saturday morning to contemplate his information. He loved the dawn; at his age, the promise of a new day was nothing to be taken for granted. The new light always seemed to bring him new clarity of thought. He had a fairly strict policy of not interfering in people's lives. Of course, there were a lot of people, including the two he was thinking about, who would not believe that, but Albus considered it to be true. People usually found their own wisdom, made their own choices, and if they didn't, they faced the consequences. Hopefully they would choose better next time.

But time was pressing on these two. Their paths were calling them, demanding that they choose one of them and set their feet on it, right now, today. It was Victory Day, but for these two emotional young people, they stood to lose everything they had fought for four years ago. Albus did not fail to see the irony of the situation. Their enemy this time was not a Dark Lord or a Prophecy, but, rather, their own insecurities and stubbornness.

Well, Albus thought, perhaps time did press. And perhaps he had sworn not to meddle in their lives. He wasn't meddling, precisely. And he wouldn't. That would make him a meddling old fool, and while he was most definitely old, and quite often a fool, nobody could say he was a meddler. He just wanted to make sure that Harry and Ginny had all the information he had. Time pressed, and they did not have time to continue with this anger and jealousy. Today was Victory Day, and he would make sure they had every chance for victory for themselves.

Pleased with his plans, and with his resolve not to interfere, he walked slowly to the Great Hall for breakfast.

It was too early to be awake. For Merlin's sake, it was barely dawn. And she had a game today; she should be resting, gathering her energy. But the sad fact was that she had no energy; she felt limp and restless and lethargic all at the same time. This past week she had fallen asleep hugging her pillow, pretending it was Harry, knowing that he was thinking of her in that little flat. She had slept soundly every night, even looked forward to sleeping, knowing--as silly as it sounded-- that in her dreams, her dreams would come true. She would be Harry's and he would be hers. They would have a home together and take care of each other.

But these last two nights sleep had eluded her, for the most part. She had grown reliant on those sweet dreams this past week, and she wondered how she had ever rested without them. Or how she ever would again. She had tried to contact him Friday, to talk it out, but he hadn't been there. He really had gone out Friday night. She had fumed at that, slamming things around the kitchen until even the fearless twins were afraid to go near her. Molly had sighed and pursed her lips, making Ginny even more angry. It wasn't her fault, and if precious Harry had kept a check on his precious temper and trusted her a bit, she wouldn't be in this foul mood now. So Molly could just go and tell Harry that, because Ginny wasn't talking to him. Ever.

It was only in the wee small hours near dawn when she could grieve for what they might have had, what they seemed to have lost so easily. It was too soon to have a fight, she supposed. It was too soon to ask him to trust her. The thing was, even though they had moved fast, she would have sworn they were solid. She would have bet they could get through anything.

Her melancholy thoughts were interrupted by a tapping at her window. She sat up and squinted into the morning light coming through her window, then got out of bed to let in the owl sitting on the sill. She couldn't block the rush of hope that it might be from Harry, and her heart fell when she saw that it wasn't Hedwig at all. It was a brown barn owl carrying a letter from Professor Dumbledore. Still, she supposed she could spare him a few minutes, even though it was going to be a very busy day. He was doing her a favor, after all.

Giving up on sleep, she got out of bed and pulled on work robes. They were having another big gathering today, for Victory Day, and she wanted to get started on the cooking. Her mum was more than capable, of course, but in the past few years Ginny had taken to helping as well. She even had a few special dishes she liked to make to set alongside Molly's. Maybe someday, a day now apparently far in the future, she'd have her own kitchen and yard to invite everyone over to. Until then, she and Molly were a good team.

The twins were up early, of course, so Ginny set them to work rolling out pie dough Muggle style. If there was any of it left after the girls had tasted it a dozen times, Ginny would show them how to put it in little plates and make a real pie of it. Playing with the dough kept them mostly occupied until Molly joined them in the kitchen.

"Oy, Mum," Ginny said, rinsing her hands in the kitchen sink and drying them on a towel at her waist. "Professor Dumbledore wants me to pop in for a few minutes this morning, all right?"

Molly gave her a brilliant smile. Ginny blinked at her. Her Mum was that happy because she was visiting the Headmaster? That was distinctly odd.

"Of course, dear," Molly said, shooing her toward the Floo. "Off you go, take your time. I'll just get the girls ready for the match."

Ginny gave her mother a suspicious look, then stepped into the fire. She yelled, "Dumbledore's office!" And after some swirling and jostling, landed on the floor at Dumbledore's feet.

"Hello, Miss Weasley!" Albus said cheerfully. His blue eyes twinkled as he held out a hand to help her stand. She took it and brushed herself off, aware that she was wearing her rattiest robes, that she had flour in her hair, and she was now dusted with gray soot. Even so, Dumbledore's manners were as courtly as if she were a queen.

"Good morning, sir," she said, smiling at the old man.

"Will you have a seat?" He gestured to one of the two squashy purple chairs in front of his desk, and she plopped herself down into one, gathering her legs up underneath her.

Albus sat in his usual chair behind his desk and regarded Ginny with a kindly smile. "It would seem that your brother, Mr. Bill Weasley, has been able to do what no other curse breaker could do, Miss Weasley."

Ginny gasped. "He did it? He lifted the jinx?"

"He did," Dumbledore agreed. "And his timing couldn't have been better." A knock sounded on the door behind Ginny and she instinctively turned her head toward it. "Speaking of timing..." murmured Dumbledore. Then he called in a loud voice, "Come in."

The door opened, and Harry walked in. "Good morning, sir, I just--" he stopped short when he saw Ginny sitting there. His heart gave a lurch, and he started to take a step toward her, until he remembered that he was mad at her and wasn't ever speaking to her again. The weight of the jewelry box in his robe pocket mocked him, but he set his jaw determinedly.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was as cool as he could make it, which was very hard, because he didn't think he'd ever seen her look more adorable. Her red hair was half up in a loose knot on top of her head, her robes were covered with soot, and there was a spot of flour on her nose, covering the freckles he loved.

"Miss Weasley is here at my invitation, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said courteously, but Harry didn't miss the warning note in his voice. "As are you."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, hating the fact that the Headmaster could still make him blush like a schoolboy when he used that disappointed tone of voice.

"Please sit down, Harry," Albus invited, and Harry skulked over to the chair beside Ginny's.

Albus took his chair again. "Miss Weasley, as we discussed at dinner Thursday evening--"

Harry started. "You were having dinner with Professor Dumbledore on Thursday?"

Dumbledore continued as though Harry had not interrupted. "--we have long suspected that the Defense Against the Dark Arts Position is jinxed. We have just lost yet another teacher in that position."

Ginny glared at him. Harry frowned. Albus smiled serenely.

"Thanks to your suggestion that your brother try his hand at lifting the jinx, we are now ready to fill that position for the long term. I believe you had another helpful suggestion regarding that post. Would you care to repeat it, Miss Weasley?"

"No," Ginny snapped.

"Please, I insist," said Albus affably. "You mentioned that I absolutely had to allow Bill to dismantle the jinx, and then you said--what was it? Ah, yes. The only possible person I could consider for the job was Harry and if I didn't then you knew an excellent curse involving bats and my overlong nose."

Ginny blushed. "I'm sorry, sir," she said. "I was rude. I was just trying to make a point."

Harry stared at her. "This is where you were Thursday night? Trying to get me a job teaching Defense?"

"Yes, Potter," Ginny sneered. "Not out with Blaise Zabini or anyone else!"

Harry sat back in his chair, stunned. She had remembered what he had said about teaching. She had been trying to make his dream come true and he had yelled at her. God, she would never love him now, and he didn't deserve for her to. He was a first-class prat.

"I had another pleasant dinner on Friday evening," Albus continued. "With a young man who informed me that my flying teacher would soon be accepting a position coaching the Tutshill Tornadoes."

Harry blushed again. "I just thought you should be kept informed," he mumbled.

"Indeed," Albus said mildly, though Harry had the distinct impression he was suppressing laughter. The meddling old fool. "What was that bit--I seem to have forgotten-- if I had a fraction of the sense the world thought I had I'd snatch up a certain Cannons' Chaser before she got sent up to first string?"

Ginny's head whipped toward him, her hair flying from its knot. "You told him to hire me as the flying teacher? Why?"

Harry looked down at the floor. "Because it pays well. Not like playing for the Cannons, but--" He broke off, feeling incredibly stupid. How could he have ever thought she needed his help? "You could fly, and you could get a little house in Hogsmeade, or stay at the Burrow with the twins, or whatever you wanted."

Albus cleared his throat, and Harry looked up. "I believe there was one other bit, was there not, Harry?"

Harry scowled at him, but Albus was undeterred.

"The part about her dreams?" he prompted.

"Oh. Well, I...that is, at the time--" Harry dared a glance up at Ginny. She was watching him as though the next words would determine her entire future. Great, no pressure. "At the time, I thought we might get married, you know, someday," he mumbled. "But even if we didn't, I…er…I wanted you to have your dream."

"Harry?" Ginny's voice was soft, thick. He heard her swallow.

"Yeah?"

"When did you contact Professor Dumbledore?"

"Oh, er--Monday."

"You wanted to marry me Monday?"

He frowned. "Maybe."

Then she smiled, and it was like the sun coming out. In the light of that smile he straightened from his slouch and sat up straight. "Harry, we've been such idiots. We weren't sneaking around on each other. We were sneaking around trying to make each other's dreams come true."

Harry felt his own smile spread across his face. "Yeah, we were, weren't we?" That was a good sign, right? That had to mean there was still hope.

Albus allowed them to gaze at each other for a few more moments, then cleared his throat discreetly. "May I add your names to the faculty roster for the Autumn Term?"

"Yes!" they said in unison.

"And," here even Albus blushed, but he had to ask, "what names shall I add?" He gave Harry a very significant look.

Harry started, "Oh, yeah, right...er, can we get back to you in a few minutes on that?" He returned Albus' very significant look with one of his own.

Albus bowed, delighted. Properly done, interference could be quite productive. "I shall leave you to see yourselves out, then."

He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving a suddenly awkward silence in his wake. Harry dipped his hand into his robe pocket and felt the box he had been carrying around for days. Then he remembered something.

"Ginny," he said, smiling, "it's Victory Day."

She nodded, biting her lower lip between her teeth. Harry slid off his chair and onto the floor to kneel in front of her. He pulled the velvet box out of his pocket.

"This dream, Ginny," he began, feeling awkward, but seeing it all clearly. "This is what the victory was all about. Not just for Victoria and Claire and their future, but for our home, our kids, our life together."

Ginny's eyes were shining and a misty smile lit her face. "I think so, too."

"Will you marry me, Ginny?" he asked. He opened the box and showed her the red and gold ring. The tears fell down her cheek as she took it from him.

"This is how my dreams always start," she whispered.

Harry slipped the ring onto her finger. "How do they end?"

She looked up at him. "They don't. They just come true."

The Chudley Cannons won their exhibition match, of course. With Weasley playing in the best form anyone had ever seen, they couldn't do otherwise. Whispers abounded that there would be an announcement today, that Weasley was finally going to be brought up to the big leagues.

Kingsley Shacklebolt knew better. After the shining star of the Auror department, his hand-picked successor, had quit on him today, it hadn't taken him long to find out the story. He was an experienced Auror and spy after all. And, not ten feet from him, was Coach B.J. Ollerton, crying into her orange robes.

"She was going to be your legacy, wasn't she?" Kingsley murmured, walking up to Coach Ollerton and handing her a butterbeer. They were far back in the crowd, barely within view of the stage. "You were going to go down in history as the coach who trained up the best Chaser the Cannons had ever seen."

B.J. took the butterbeer and wiped her eyes on her orange sleeve. "Thanks. H-how do you know that?"

Kingsley shrugged and took a sip of his own butterbeer. "I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry Potter's supervisor." A look of comprehension dawned on B.J.'s face, and Kingsley gave her a wry smile. She really was very pretty. And fit. He wondered why he had never thought about dating a Quidditch player before.

B.J. returned the smile. "Former supervisor, you mean?"

"Yes, of course," Kingsley agreed. "Former supervisor. Best Auror we ever had."

"Best Chaser we ever had, too," B.J. said, sighing. "But I always knew her heart wasn't in it."

Kingsley nodded briefly. "I felt the same thing about Potter. I offered him a brilliant promotion, but all he wanted to know was if I'd ever been married."

B.J. looked at him shrewdly. "Have you?"

Damn, Kingsley thought, that no-nonsense approach is sexy. He felt a slow smile creeping onto his face. "Not yet."

To his amazement, Coach Ollerton blushed. He was just about to press his tactical advantage when the crowd began to fell silent, and all eyes in the crowd turned to the stage.

Albus Dumbledore pointed his wand at his throat so that his voice would be magnified. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "Welcome to the fourth annual celebration of Victory Day. On this day four years ago, the forces of Light achieved Victory over darkness and despair. Voldemort was defeated by love and hope, through the efforts of the four young people you see before you and many others. The world was made safe for generations to come. Before we continue, I invite you to take a moment of silence in remembrance of those who paid for our victory with their life."

The crowd fell silent, even the children seeming to know what was expected in this solemn quiet. Kingsley thought back to those dark days, to his dear friend Arthur who fell in battle, to brave young Fleur, barely out of childbed, insisting that she wasn't going to sit around and wait for others to make the world safe for her children. To Moody and Sirius and Lupin and all the others who thought there was something worth dying for.

What was it? What had they all found worth dying for?

His eyes slid again to the woman next to him. He remembered his bare little flat above a shop in Diagon Alley. His glance returned to the stage as Potter took the podium.

"A dear friend once said to me, to all of us, that there are things worth dying for," Harry began. Kingsley fidgeted; he felt rather than saw B.J.'s quick look. "And he was right. But they're not...well, they're not the big, heroic things. They're the little things. Friends and homes and children, and a future of simple...simple joys."

Kinglsey could see young Weasley, still clad in her orange robes, flanked by her brother Ron and his wife. The four young heroes, their smiles shining so brightly they could be seen from back here.

"When Victoria and Claire Weasley were born," Harry continued, "we all could suddenly see that...well, there was a future waiting for them, and that we had to somehow make it happen. So, we did. We did it then so that these kids' dreams could come true. But the rest of us have dreams, too. A lot of people died so that we could stand here today. Let's not waste their sacrifice, all right? Let's make our dreams come true."

Kingsley tried to roll his eyes at such sentimentality, but he seemed to have gotten something in them, because they were all wet and misty. He blinked furiously to clear up the problem. Beside him, B.J. was crying again, but this time there was a sweet smile on her face.

"Do you have dreams, Miss Ollerton?" _What in Merlin's name had made him ask that?_

"That I do, Mr. Shacklebolt," she answered with sniff.

"Perhaps you would be so good as to join me for dinner," Kingsley said, ignoring the fact that butterflies danced in his stomach. He was a decorated Auror, for Merlin's sake. "We could discuss our dreams."

B.J. looked up into his dark eyes. Then she smiled. "That would be lovely."

_The End_

This story archived at: The Harry Potter Fan Fiction Archive


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